My breath catches in my throat as I hear the warning from the scary woman, more hissed than spoken, and urgent in tone. It's the first I've heard her talk since we broke out of the prison, and the sound takes me by surprise. I guess I had grown used to the thought of her as a mute. She gestures up the street, back the way we came. I see it now, too. An occasional burst of light sweeps back and forth over the vacant buildings around the corner. Harmless enough by itself, unless you happen to have just broken out of a prison after beating a guard within an inch of his life and stealing his clothes, and are now hiding in the ruins of a small cafe hoping to avoid detection. In that case, a beam of light might be cause for concern. We all take heed of the command and cut the noise.
I move away from the front of the room where Jocelyn had roughly deposited me while working to set my injured leg. There's not much space to hide out here if someone comes through the doorway. The front of the building has two windows and a doorway, all of which are vacant, the door nowhere to be found and sharp shards of glass littering the floor. I glance around at the broken tables and chairs, making sure not to trip and give away our position. I wince as a dull pain blossoms up my leg every time I put weight on it. At least I can walk. I gingerly move along the wall of the dining room and into the kitchen, searching for a place to hide from the light bearers.
Ponch is back here, as is the woman who decided jumping out a third-story window would just be a great idea back at the prison. Parker, I think she's called. Ponch is holding a dull piece of metal; looking closer I notice that it's a handle which he's managed to pry off one of the old ovens back here. He briefly holds it up to me, as if offering to share, but I wave it away with a grimace and turn to check our surroundings. The kitchen has a few old appliances, drawer units, and shelves. Everything back here is covered in dust and grime, and it's apparent to me that most anything worth salvaging was taken outta here long ago. I notice a large shelving unit against the back wall, but something doesn't sit quite right about it in my head. Upon closer inspection I notice that the shelving unit is actually blocking a back exit to the building.
Back up front, the scary woman has disappeared. Probably turned tail and ran, if she's smart. Jocelyn is hiding next to the front doorway of the building, and I can hear voices coming from outside. Sounds like these guys are about as thrilled as I am to be out here at dusk, playing cat and mouse. I whisper to Ponch that they might just move on, and he gives me a strange look. He seems almost...disappointed. I notice that he's fashioned his metal handle into a workable shiv, and briefly ponder the wisdom of letting him keep it earlier.
I'm watching the doorway as one of the lights gets closer. Jocelyn sees it too, and her muscles tense like a wolf about to pounce on its prey. I watch as a guard, blissfully unaware of the misfortune about to befall him, wearily trudges over the threshold of the cafe. Before he knows what's happening, she wallops him in the ear and winds up for a second swing. His navy blue Waltzer uniform is splattered with dark red blood, and he's thrown for a loop, disoriented and holding his head. I can't help but feel a little bit bad for the guy. I've seen what she can do. Hell, I've got a bit of that coming to me, if she's true to her word. Parker and Ponch jump out into the dining room to assist Jocelyn, and we're off to the races.
From my cozy little vantage point in the kitchen, I can see most of the action: Jocelyn putting this poor sucker in a headlock, Parker squaring off with another blue shirt, and Ponch swaying back and forth with his shiv in his hand and a hungry look in his eye. I suddenly feel a bit useless, and briefly ponder hobbling out to help, but then I remember that I'm not much use in a fight even when all my limbs are intact. Instead, I get up and make my way over to the shelving unit in front of the back door. The others may have this thing well in hand, but I'll be damned if I'm not gonna have a backup plan in case this thing goes sideways.
CREEEEAK!
The rusty bolts holding the decrepit shelving unit together give way one by one, allowing me to pull hunks of wood and metal off; I toss them to the side where they hit the floor with a thud and a crash. My muscles reflexively tense at the sound, at least until I remember that the time for stealth has long since passed. Cursing my companions for the twelfth or twentieth time since we escaped the prison, I grab another hunk of metal and tug until it bends and snaps away.
I glance over my shoulder, and the scene that greets me almost makes me ill.
My breath catches in my throat as I hear the warning from the scary woman, more hissed than spoken, and urgent in tone. It's the first I've heard her talk since we broke out of the prison, and the sound takes me by surprise. I guess I had grown used to the thought of her as a mute. She gestures up the street, back the way we came. I see it now, too. An occasional burst of light sweeps back and forth over the vacant buildings around the corner. Harmless enough by itself, unless you happen to have just broken out of a prison after beating a guard within an inch of his life and stealing his clothes, and are now hiding in the ruins of a small cafe hoping to avoid detection. In that case, a beam of light might be cause for concern. We all take heed of the command and cut the noise.
I move away from the front of the room where Jocelyn had roughly deposited me while working to set my injured leg. There's not much space to hide out here if someone comes through the doorway. The front of the building has two windows and a doorway, all of which are vacant, the door nowhere to be found and sharp shards of glass littering the floor. I glance around at the broken tables and chairs, making sure not to trip and give away our position. I wince as a dull pain blossoms up my leg every time I put weight on it. At least I can walk. I gingerly move along the wall of the dining room and into the kitchen, searching for a place to hide from the light bearers.
Ponch is back here, as is the woman who decided jumping out a third-story window would just be a great idea back at the prison. Parker, I think she's called. Ponch is holding a dull piece of metal; looking closer I notice that it's a handle which he's managed to pry off one of the old ovens back here. He briefly holds it up to me, as if offering to share, but I wave it away with a grimace and turn to check our surroundings. The kitchen has a few old appliances, drawer units, and shelves. Everything back here is covered in dust and grime, and it's apparent to me that most anything worth salvaging was taken outta here long ago. I notice a large shelving unit against the back wall, but something doesn't sit quite right about it in my head. Upon closer inspection I notice that the shelving unit is actually blocking a back exit to the building.
Back up front, the scary woman has disappeared. Probably turned tail and ran, if she's smart. Jocelyn is hiding next to the front doorway of the building, and I can hear voices coming from outside. Sounds like these guys are about as thrilled as I am to be out here at dusk, playing cat and mouse. I whisper to Ponch that they might just move on, and he gives me a strange look. He seems almost...disappointed. I notice that he's fashioned his metal handle into a workable shiv, and briefly ponder the wisdom of letting him keep it earlier.
I'm watching the doorway as one of the lights gets closer. Jocelyn sees it too, and her muscles tense like a wolf about to pounce on its prey. I watch as a guard, blissfully unaware of the misfortune about to befall him, wearily trudges over the threshold of the cafe. Before he knows what's happening, she wallops him in the ear and winds up for a second swing. His navy blue Waltzer uniform is splattered with dark red blood, and he's thrown for a loop, disoriented and holding his head. I can't help but feel a little bit bad for the guy. I've seen what she can do. Hell, I've got a bit of that coming to me, if she's true to her word. Parker and Ponch jump out into the dining room to assist Jocelyn, and we're off to the races.
From my cozy little vantage point in the kitchen, I can see most of the action: Jocelyn putting this poor sucker in a headlock, Parker squaring off with another blue shirt, and Ponch swaying back and forth with his shiv in his hand and a hungry look in his eye. I suddenly feel a bit useless, and briefly ponder hobbling out to help, but then I remember that I'm not much use in a fight even when all my limbs are intact. Instead, I get up and make my way over to the shelving unit in front of the back door. The others may have this thing well in hand, but I'll be damned if I'm not gonna have a backup plan in case this thing goes sideways.
CREEEEAK!
The rusty bolts holding the decrepit shelving unit together give way one by one, allowing me to pull hunks of wood and metal off; I toss them to the side where they hit the floor with a thud and a crash. My muscles reflexively tense at the sound, at least until I remember that the time for stealth has long since passed. Cursing my companions for the twelfth or twentieth time since we escaped the prison, I grab another hunk of metal and tug until it bends and snaps away.
I glance over my shoulder, and the scene that greets me almost makes me ill.